1

I'm just like everyone else, am I not? I look like them. I speak like them. I am of independent thought and opinion. I can do everything they can.

And yet…

What sets me so far apart from them?

These thoughts were the only ones that bounced from corner to corner in my mind as I stared unseeingly at the painfully familiar but breathtakingly beautiful mountainous scenery in the distance. I was in a Sentry Tower, my gaze moving its slit focus onto the scrapes and scratches that marred the iron bars surrounding me. Often times my dirty hands had collided with those same bars, granting them the marks that stain them to this day. And each time I was dealt back damage thrice its initial severity; all because of the magic seal placed both above and beneath the cage.

An unfamiliar face before mine interrupted my musings for a minor moment, unusual brown eyes locking onto mine. He had hair spun of the richest brass which fell about his head in a messy yet untangled mass. A new recruit, I think, has joined the ranks. He stepped closer, and my mind grew wary, my body tense as a coiled spring. But two spears appeared between us both, meeting at a cross.

"Don't get too close, boy," the guard to my left (I'd forgotten his name over time) warned gruffly. "This one's dangerous."

If I was as dangerous as to how they make me to be, how is it that I had been caged and not chained as well?

Then, a familiar soldier I'd known well by both face and name came into view to sling an arm around the newcomer's shoulders. General Takk, he was. An honorable man, too, but with an ego great as his reputation.

"That there," he told the lad, "is a Dragonfly. The only one of it's kind known to be in existence."

"Dragonfly…?" the youth rolled the word off his tongue, as if tasting it.

To my own limited knowledge, dragonflies were winged insects that possessed agility far too advanced for any earthly creature. It was a remarkable feat to even snare any one of its four wings let alone capture in its entirety. How I had come to be labeled as such continues to elude my understanding.

"A fast one, he is," Takk continued with a nod. "Took the lives of five hundred of our best troops before we could even get a proper arrow into one of his wings."

The brown eyed boy, not at all a minute over twenty years of age than was my own appearance, turned his head to look questioningly at his superior. Takk had not taken his eyes off me, those green orbs filled with both pride and disgust: a combination I've only seen in just about everyone's in this brigade.

"This one had helped win the war against Moisteur," the general added. No matter how much I'd loathed being nothing but a tool to the kingdom of Noirzhe, I took moderate offense to be referred to as the 'helping hand' to the finishing blow. They, of the imperial army, had let me loose under the bind of the cursed seal to obliterate the four thousand man army of Moisteur when Noirzhe was in danger of being overrun.

The other's eyes returned to me with something akin to awe and…dare I say reverence? I saw one of his feet slide about an inch in my direction, but he had stopped himself short at the twitch of the crossed spears. Those eyes, such a strange brown hue, had flickered between both guards with a dim but defiant twinkle before the lad was being led away by the general.

My own eyes had followed as they left across the bridge to another Sentry Tower, belatedly capturing sight of the long bow in his right hand and a sack of what I knew to be enchanted arrows strapped securely to his back.

He was an archer.


***********

I hadn't seen any other new faces, nor had I seen the brown haired lad I'd met mere days ago. I have seen, however, General Takk, much to my distaste. Just yesterday he had leant back against the wall under an archer's window, just to train his gaze upon me. He had not done this since the first few weeks of his being instated as general of the D Brigade: those were the archers and catapults. And even now as before, that gaze roused a feeling of dread in the pit of my belly. There was that light in his eyes that I did not trust; the ever present swell of pride was there, but it was shared, somewhat. There was that self-made pride he always carried with him: his very air of confidence was a bittersweet scent unto my nostrils. And there was his pride in me, I think. I knew that somewhere inside that twisted heart he had some amount of confidence in me, even if it wasn't for my own benefit.

Tonight, though, he was not present as I had half expected. Taking his place at the center of my attention was the full moon outside the window directly in front of me. A condor had flown by, smelling the same stench of animalistic death around the city walls. There was a failed invasion by some insolent hum-- people, trying to overthrow Noirzhe. Only a handful had attempted, though: I had smelt about two hundred and fifty. The City Guard had taken care of that matter.

My stomach had turned my attention to the fact that I was hungry, and another serving of owl meat wasn't going to cut it. The steel platter lay in a forgotten corner, the meat gone cold. I am not one to complain but I grew tired of the same thing over and over. Even if I ate what was given to me, my hunger would not be sated. I wanted something new.

I wanted to hunt.

As the thought ran across my mind, I felt my teeth grow sharper and my tongue split a bit down the middle. My vision expanded and I felt my tail brush against the cage floor. But no more than that for my strength seemed to dart from me, the cursed seals on my prison using my lost energy to strengthen themselves.

A guard turned his head to look at me, only to roll his eyes and continue his duty on watch. My teeth receded a bit, and my eyes went from slits back to the round ones they usually are when I'm human. My tail and forked tongue remained behind, however, my body still craving new meat. But my focus was grabbed by approaching footsteps, loud enough to alert the guards here, as well.

"Who goes there?" The man to my right called out.

"Just an archer," came a voice from beyond the door to the left of the tower room. The man on the other side of the door sounded familiar, though I could not assign face to him through my red rimmed haze. One of the guards walked toward the door and let the man in, who carried something on a covered platter with a scent that lapped teasingly at my nose.

The tray was set before the cage where I sat, my eyes glued to it as a hand lifted the dome shaped lid. The scent ran me over and I felt a low growl against the back of my throat. I smelt a hint of fear from all three of the other occupants in the room but they were the least of my concerns.

The iron door was opened and my tail carted the tray in toward me no sooner than it was able to fit through the doorway. Upon closer inspection, however, both the scent and sight of it made me ill.

Human meat.

My eyes snapped up to look at the one who brought me this and my glare wavered a bit. It was the archer from before. He kept his eyes on me, his body holding the fear that could not find room to share with the other conflicting emotions swirling in those unusual depths. One of them I identified as the usual pride, but somehow it was…different.

"They said he'd eat whatever is given," he said, directing the unspoken query to one of the guards but keeping his sights on me still.

"Usually," the one on the left swallowed after nearly yelping his reply. "What's so different about the meat you gave him?"

"I've no idea." I smelt the lie on him before he uttered those false words.

"You knew it was human meat," I hissed at him, my voice raspy because of its lack of use. I made no move to attack, but backed away from the tray.

"It can talk?" The other guard gasped, but I ignored him.

"I don't eat human meat," I said, still affixed my gaze to the young one. "The butchers know it."

At that moment, the steel doors opened and in stepped the man who usually brought my tray. This time, I knew the scent to be of deer meat: I hadn't had deer in ages. I felt my eyes narrow and I looked from the man to the boy, to the foul meat and back at the archer.

I pushed the tray out of my cage but said nothing more. This boy was up to something.

"What are you doing here, Roderick?" My feeder, Glen, asked. "I'd sent you to the lions to feed them the meat of the attackers. Not him!"

The archer seemed to relax his stance, much like the guards after Glen came in without a hint of fear about him. He may have been wary, but he was not afraid of me. He was the only one not afraid of me.

"I'm sorry," the archer, no, Roderick, said meekly, though his scent was anything but sincere. "I misunderstood."

Like hell.

My brows furrowed as the archer took his leave, watching his retreating back until the metal door shut firmly behind him. I returned my attention to Glen as he asked the guards themselves to leave. They had both looked at him dubiously, as this was but their third time guarding me. They did as bade, however, both standing just outside the tower room.

Glen squatted before me, opening the cage door all the way to let me out like he'd always done every once in a while. I stepped out and stood to my full height, almost towering over the stout butcher. I nearly stretched my muscles beyond their limits, wincing as one in my leg protested painfully.

Glen only chuckled as he watched. He was like a father and a friend to me over the past ten years and I've always been grateful to him. He'd taught me everything about the castle and its layout and some of the most amazing tales anyone, young or old, would kill to enjoy. He took it upon himself to be the one who fed me, only sending others in his stead when he could not make it.

"I thought Roderick was better than the dimwitted boys I had as my assistants," he said in the acute rasp that layered his aging voice. Glen was not a young man. Near to the age of eighty, he was.

"Sorry to say, but you had been sadly mistaken," I told him lightheartedly, sitting on the cold stone floor and placing the tray onto my lap. Glen ran withered old fingers through my oily and, no doubt, foul smelling hair. I had not been allowed a bath this week due to scaring five years off a new guard's life out of sheer lack of anything to do.

Glen let the thick raven locks flop to my head where they wish as he moved slowly to sit beside me. "You have grown much, young Dragonfly. Have you no intention of fleeing this dreaded place?"

I stopped eating for a moment of thought, looking at my feeder quizzically. After a decade of practically rotting in this Sentry tower, he had never posed the question of, or even alluded to my escape.

"But where would I go, Glen?" I asked, truly wanting to know. "Even if I had escaped the restrictions of the marks on my cage and the one crafted onto my nape, to where must I turn? You've heard of it yourself: I was the only one known in existence!"

"Ah," he said, looking up at the moon. "You take by gospel too foolishly the words of men."

Dinner now forgotten, I turn to face him. "You mean to say that there are others like me," I waved a hand toward the large window. "Out there?"

"No one will know for certain unless they find out for themselves, young one."

At that moment, my sensitive ears were nearly made to bleed when high pitched shrieks rang through the air. Those Shrikes may have been strong creatures but they yelled like banshees. Glen chuckled at my discomfort and rose slowly, nearly stumbling. I darted forward to assist, but he waved me away. He dusted himself and motioned me back into the cage with the deer meat. I handed him the platter of owl, thinking balefully of the one Roderick left with: the human meat.

"Do they really think so low of me?" I queried, looking to my only father figure for an answer.

"They think many things of you, Young One," he told me.

"Always with your riddles, old man," I grumbled. Not once had I gotten so much as a straight answer from him, but was left to figure things out on my own.

He merely smiled down at me. "Indeed, I am up in age. Therefore you should make your escape while I have breath in my body, child."

I felt my heart plummet at the inevitable coming of his death. "But…"

"Never you worry for my wellbeing, young Dragonfly," he told me, swinging the iron gate shut and taking the abandoned tray. "Just see to it you've gone before I leave this life."

I remained quiet, unsure of what to say as I watched him knock on the iron door for the soldiers to let him out.

2

My wrists were held in shackles through the iron bars, my cage shifting as the horse dragged my wagon through the predawn lit streets of Noirzhe's capital city. In the distance I saw the palace, a structure so grand that one can spot it days before reaching the city gates. I've only gone to the palace grounds once a month to have my run of the meadow behind it. It was a day I anticipated most for I had all of two days to spread my wings and flit about as I pleased.

Although, what with that accursed black mark to glow green and restrict my movement, being 'free' was a bit of a self-contradiction when in regards to me. Glen's words flitted though my mind and I shook my head. There was no method around that mark. And to make matters worse…

I leveled a secret glare at the shaman who rode alongside my wagon: Luxor. He was the one who embedded a smaller version of the seal to the scruff of my neck. That way if I'm ever free of the cage, he can activate the mark on my nape to subdue me. I turned my gaze to the other side of the street when he cast a glance at me. Two other pairs of eyes caught my attention as we rode by. Two tiny tots peeked through a window, their large, curious and innocent scrutiny affixed upon me. I blinked at the pair and they scurried away.

With a soft sigh I revisit the image of the mountains outside the city gates which now lay behind the tiny caravan: my 'happy place' if you will. But my focus wavers every so often and I can only gaze a bit uncertainly at the massive edifice just under a quarter mile away.

"Have you heard of that new archer?" A horseman, a cavalier I think judging from his armor, spoke up. The other one mounted beside him grunted.

"I heard he's got the sharpest aim yet and only a recruit." The first cavalier's voice was so full of admiration that I look to the backside of his head, wishing I could see his face. Maybe he is as young as he sounds. "Ingram's possibly vexed that another's come to take his title."

The other man again said nothing, but glanced back at me. Our gazes met briefly but I returned my attention to the speaker, eager to know who this archer was, although I'd gained a fairly good image of this esteemed recruit. The memory of his arrows, however, came to me rather than the archer himself. The tips wore a light sheen of something lilac. I'd seen many an archer's arrowhead, but his were far more unique.

My inner musings were brought to a halt as did my wagon. I looked up to see gold encrusted iron gates, looking something akin to solid stone. The sounds of the gears creaking and turning reached my ears, the gates swinging inward languidly as if in tandem with the slowly waking city. We continued through, the courtyard's immaculately trimmed hedges forming something of a maze as we zigzagged and curved nearly endlessly through the carefully constructed labyrinth. I once thought it was a folly of the King himself, but soon realized that it was a ploy to stall enemy soldiers if they managed to reach so far as the palace courtyard.

Workers of the early morn paused in their assigned duties to grace me with passing glances, some even looking to each other in confusion. Others, however few, looked on with shocked familiarity in their eyes. It may not have seemed that long to me, but it had been little over a year since I'd ventured anywhere outside the Tower. We had come to a stop before the doorway of Castle Noirzhe, and the shaman dismounted his steed, a stable hand leading the horse away.

"Release him." Luxor was already partway up the numerous steps, leaving the cavaliers to carry out the deed. The silent one keyed open my cuffs, opening the cage to let me out. I stood, noticing that I had about two inches on him in height. The more talkative of the pair reset the shackles and led me up to the door, the other following behind.

Luxor turned stern blue eyes to us, a foot not so far from tapping with impatience. He looked behind me at the two cavaliers. "You are dismissed."

Both the cavaliers bowed and took their leave, and I remained with my handler. Luxor looked to me and turned to enter the partially opened door of the castle. "I trust you wouldn't attempt anything shady, Dragonfly."

I did not answer, my self sworn vow of silence only broken when in the sole presence of Glen; civilly in any case. Luxor seemed not to care; his icy stare spared not a sparse moment longer on my face and I followed him. As usual I walked with my head bowed and a half pace behind, my matted hair falling like tendrils around my line of sight. After a time of following a quite familiar path, my feet gained minds of their own and I took in the obstructed view of the castle's interior. Not much had changed within the past year except the floral arrangements set atop the marble surfaces which stood to my shoulders.

It was not so long before Luxor's steps, and mine alike, ceased. I glanced ahead through raven fringes to see what had stopped our progress, knowing we were but halfway to our intended destination. Before my handler stood a girl, not so far from becoming womanly in her features, but a girl nonetheless.

"Take him to the baths," I heard him say and he left, not waiting for an affirmative response or casting a backward glance. His blue robes billowed around his ankles his as he made his way back in the direction from whence we came, only veering to the left rather than to the right at a corner.

"Sir?" The girl's voice was soft and I looked up at her. She was a pale thing, small but not sickeningly so: petite if you will. Her wide brown eyes beckoned me and I followed wordlessly. To be honest, it was not because of that vow of silence; it just was not often that someone called me 'sir.' Then again, what else was there to call me when I was not given a name much less recall the one given to me at birth?

When Luxor's scent had faded considerably, I allowed my head to rise and take in properly the walls around us. They were still the pale yellow color I'd come to recall quite easily, large portraits of past sovereigns and inconsequential objects like landscapes draped along their surfaces. One of them, however, I had not seen before. My steps slowed of their own accord and I paused to get a better look.

There, beside one of the numerous portraits of King Heath himself, was a masterpiece too grand for words. It was something to find in the dreams of a mere child: a large valley with a surrounding forest, and a lake in its midst. There were creatures of all kinds: dragons, elves, faeries, centaurs and the like. The details were worked in with so much care, that it struck me to wonder just how old the painter was to wield such skill. Surely no human hand could have crafted this.

Against the painted evening vista was a wingless beast, for lack of a better word. Its body was likened unto a snake of sorts: a black diamondback body, long and sinuous, hardened like sandstone and coils sharp along its curves. The head was similar to a lizard's, and around it like sepals to a flower were four long spear like red thorns elongated like a knight's lance. It's eyes were a striking cobalt, and they seemed to pierce my soul. The tail end of the snake-like creature was suspended mid air, fanned like a lily's petals with something sharp and needle-like jutting from it. And its head, the only thing besides the tail spike, left without scales, was floating nearest to the ground adjacent an olive creature I could not identify, body slightly coiled to surround it. The creature seemed to be…protecting the olive skinned thing.

This creature was oddly familiar to me as much as it was strange: its tail was like mine, that much I can decipher. The body, however, was stranger still. Though it was smaller than the floating Diamondback, it was like a normal flying dragon, but with a slender body, as to a dragon of the sea, but with impossibly thin and transparent wings: four on its back and two on its tail. But no matter how bizarre, it tugged at my soul, screaming something akin to 'home' to my heart.

My mind came back to me when the woman's scent began to diminish. But before I could move to catch up to the still walking servant, something else caught my eye: something so familiar that it shifted the stone floor beneath my feet. It was the Massimo Mountains: the same mountains outside the palace walls. It may have been something of a speck, unnoticeable to others: far off in the distance according to this piece, but I knew otherwise. I recognized those peaks instantly.

"Sir?" The girl's head peeked at me from around a corner and I moved to follow, my gaze lingering on the painting only a moment longer.


My hair was pulled back and away from my face in a low pony tail: I politely declined to have it cut since I have a strange attachment to it. My filthy gray attire (no more than an oversized night shirt, really), was replaced with another set of the same color: they gave me a gray loose-fitting shirt and trousers with brown leather boots that reached to my knees. However, those were placed neatly in the corner of a spare servant's room as I was dressed in a mage's garments. They were ebony in color, with emerald studded silver embroidery, a symbol not unlike the curse seal attached to my nape but bigger, was emblazoned onto the back and partially hidden by the rather large hood. Now that I had thought about it, as I walked behind my handler, he too bore the seal on his robes. To be honest, I'd never seen him with anything remotely related to the seal other than the pendant he wore around his neck which he used to restrict me along with an incantation.

Silently I followed Luxor who donned the white ceremonial robes of a Shaman, trekking an unfamiliar path. As we drew nearer to where we were going, the sounds of murmuring and excited chatter wafted through the hall. Odd, but not unwelcome scents greeted my nose and opened my stomach. It was not meat, not the kind I am used to eating: but hot and flavored.

Cooked food.

Soon, the scent was nearly overwhelming as we entered a large room. The guest dining hall, I recall. I had been here once before, but that was years ago. The design had changed since then, and all that is really left of the once incredibly ornate room was a rather ridiculously large round table, looking to fit at least a hundred men. This table, however, was laden with dishes I could never dream of. Different meats and fruit called to me, but I held myself firm. The soldiers, who were the ones chattering, were standing around dressed in their wartime attire: some wore armor, some wore robes, and the archers came in their tunics and slacks. Each man and the occasional woman wore their weapon of choice proudly, none seeming to notice as I all but floated behind my handler as we both headed toward an elevated part of the Hall. There on the raised piece, were four thrones: three of which were occupied.

King Heath was seated in the red cushioned golden throne, third from the left, aged not a day over fifty with slightly graying red hair. He wore his usual royal blue robes and bullion crown with but one peculiar ruby embedded in its center. The king sat with a slightly withered fist beneath his jaw as he looked on, amused. To his immediate left sat the younger of his two sons: no older than twelve with scarlet locks and gray eyes to match his father. Keith was a boy of great patience and benevolence, an emotional ghost of his late mother, Queen Katherine. The twelve year old wore dark blue robes trimmed with silver, and he seemed to be a bit…fidgety, as if wanting to mingle with his loyal subjects. It was to be expected: every bit like his mother he was; she was the only one other than Glen to demonstrate kindness toward me.

And one entire seat over from the king's right, sat Ingram, the Crown Prince of Noirzhe. He was nothing, if not the spitting image of his mother, the androgynous lad that he was. He had his mother's face and slender form, with nothing to tell of his masculinity save for his deepened voice and flat chest. He had hair of the most natural white, and eyes of the sharpest amber. He looked all the world a flaxen angel, dressed in white and gold robes… save for the perpetual scowl he wore like the very skin he was in. The prince sat with the side of his face resting in his upraised palm, glaring at his crown which was perched atop his left knee. Just about everyone who knew the late queen knew that Ingram, no matter how much he resembled his mother, was the total opposite of that dear, sweet lady.

Luxor and I stopped before the Imperial family and bowed, as was custom.

"My Liege," we chorused, my first words spoken outside the Tower since the predawn light.

"Luxor," King Heath greeted, nodding to the shaman and then to me. "Dragonfly."

We rose, my head kept low as I followed my handler up onto the raised platform, Luxor standing half a step behind the throne: position of the Royal advisor; and I in the shadows as per usual. I felt eyes on me and followed the prickle-like feeling to the watchful gray gaze of the second prince. I merely shot him a glance and turned my attention elsewhere: if I were to be caught looking any of them in the eye, punishment was severe and I for one would like to retain my monthly privilege. My eyes drifted to the floor-to-ceiling windows and beyond, looking at the lush green meadow awash with the light of springtime.

Come to think of it, that was where I should have been. There were only two other times I'd been somewhat swindled out of my chance to spread my wings: and that was before the war against Moisteur and the other occasion was a sporadic idea of the shaman himself who seemed to have the notion to drag me along for the Announcement of the Ranks. And judging from the magnificent layout of the buffet, it was the latter. I looked over at my handler, who leant over ever so slightly to talk to the king. Keith was all but careening over to hear what was being said, much to the amusement of his father.

Again, I felt that prickly sensation of being watched. My attention roamed the large room as imperceptibly as possible and came to lock with familiar brown eyes. Roderick stood in front of the window now, goblet of wine in his hand. He was dressed in his usual archer's attire and his arrows were strapped securely to his back. He gave me a small nod of acknowledgement and I returned the gesture after a moment's hesitation. Soon after he beamed, a wide grin plastered across his face, causing both my brows to furrow in confusion. But before either of us can react, the king silenced the entire room.

Luxor stepped forward, and his voice washed over everyone in attendance. "King Heath has called you all here not only for the anniversary celebration of the win against Moisteur, but to announce the new ranks."

Out of his sleeve he pulled a scroll that unraveled to quite a length. Much like the last time I'd been present, I decided to set my mind free, only listening in for the most prominent positions. There were at least twenty battalions in the army, all headed by the best of the best. Takk was announced as general for the D-Brigade of the fifth battalion again for the second consecutive time. I brought myself back to the room, looking to see where the swordsman was. He stood in the shadows of the room amidst other eager soldiers, the same prideful look sitting in his eyes.

As for all of the archers, the crown prince was captain. It wasn't much of a surprise, really. Everyone else seemed to be geared toward the position of Lieutenant. However, this wasn't the piece of information that had garnered my wayward attention. What stunned me was who was labeled Lieutenant.

"…Roderick Armania."

There was an eruption of mixed murmuring. Some were a bit skeptical -- the boy was but a rookie after all, not to mention that it had only been three months since his enrollment in the army. Others, the archers mainly, sounded as if they knew it would happen all along. Roderick knelt before the king to receive his Royal Blessing. Cheers and applause rang out when he stood to be presented. Luxor went on to the remaining battalions and I let my mind move on to other things.


<NEW PAGE>

3

I'd been allowed to spend the night within the castle. It may have been the servant's quarters but it was much more lavish than that cage in the Tower. I had almost questioned Luxor of my stay but thought better of it, foolishly but halfheartedly, believing that I'd be able to chance the meadow behind the castle. With a heavy sigh, I turned to lay on my side. The image of the painting in the main hall invaded my thoughts and I considered going out to look at it properly. Blinking at the part of the wall that met the moonlight, I arose and walked toward the window. This one didn't overlook the fields behind the castle, but the vast garden planted by the queen herself before she passed. Roses and carnations were her choices -- they had buried her with an entire bouquet. I inhaled, the many combined scents of the garden seeping through the seams of the windows. The night beckoned me but I could only deny her call.

I met the dawn at the window where I had eventually fallen asleep sitting in its sill. Absently as I stretched, I rubbed a hand over the mark at my nape where the skin was slightly raised beneath the mark. I trained my ears on the sounds and the happenings around. Servants were already up and puttering about their duties. Footsteps approached not an hour after my waking and a different girl whisked me away to the baths.

Soon after I was dressed in loose fitting clothes, the ones set out for me previously once again neglected. The girl left me in the care of one of the butlers and he led me to the Dining Hall. King Heath sat to the head of the table, to his right, the queen's empty chair. Along the length of the table were Ingram and Keith who sat opposite each other while Luxor sat beside the crown prince. The butler and I bowed to the king and his sons and I assumed my place in my handler's shadow, head slightly bowed and hands at my sides.

"Please, Dragonfly," came the younger of the prices' voice. "Sit with us."

I looked to him and then to the King and finally Luxor. The shaman did not look back at me but glanced at the King. His Majesty looked at his youngest son and then nodded. Luxor raised a hand to beckon me and I sat beside him. Prince Keith told the butler who brought me here to bring me a plate. Silently I thanked Glen for teaching me all those years ago how to use the different eating instruments, even if I was a bit rusty. The entire breakfast went by in silence on most of our parts, Keith speaking enough for all of us.

Ingram was the first to depart, saying something about going to train. Keith had been listening intently to the tale one of the entertainers had strung together for him. I had long since finished my meal and was listening to the tale myself.

"About those plans of yours, Luxor," King Heath stopped my focus on the story with the curiosity in his voice. Luxor, too, had finished. The shaman turned to me.

"Leave for the fields until I've come to fetch you."

Keith had sent the entertainer away by then, seemingly keen on what Luxor had to say as well. I nodded and stood to bow. "Many thanks to you, Young Prince. And you, your Majesty."

I turned heel and left the Hall, well aware of my way to the meadow. My pace had quickened and I breezed past the servants, bypassing the painting altogether in favor of spreading my wings. I'd found the doors leading out into the palace hind gardens and shed my cloak near the second tree I saw. I sprinted into the cluster of trees, running a good distance before I felt myself change.

My tail carried in the air behind me and I was soon on all four of my limbs. My snout, long and rounded, became visible to me and I felt my wings unfold. My body rose and I lifted high into the air with a screech of victory. I was free.

Well, free as can be when one has a cursed seal branded onto their body, but I take what I can get.

My wings were nearly invisible to my own enhanced vision whilst in motion, as I remained in one spot to warm them up and stretch them. I let my eyes travel over the castle grounds, or what I can see of it. I was considerably high up and the castle still seemed to be the same size despite my vantage point. I zipped across the meadow to the stables, descending low enough to frighten the horses as they were being led out for a run.

I made an entire lap around the meadow, just reveling in the feel of being able to fly again. It would have been nice just to hunt a little as well but then that may be asking for more than what was given. I reared back without much trouble at all and darted back to the center of the field only to float in place for a bit, almost unsure of what to do next. I looked up at the very highest point of the castle and ascended, just to look over the large palace. And it was a splendid idea, apparently. An arrow sped by just beneath me. I looked down to see none other than Prince Ingram with his quiver still aimed at me and right arm drawn back.

"Dragonfly," his lips read. His arrow seemed to set off a barrage of many, and I slid neatly out of the way. Not too far behind him was Roderick and the rest of the imperial archers. All were aiming freshly drawn arrows, waiting for Ingram's signal.

Bewildered, I kept moving form side to side careful not to remain still for more than a few seconds. I was at a loss as to what was going on. I'm but an innocent creature wanting to have some undisturbed time of recreation. Why the sudden hostility? I caught Roderick's eye and opened my mouth to… I know not what, but all that sounded was that screech from before. The brassy haired lad merely stood looking up at me as if in shock, much like everyone else, but not readying his bow just the same.

"Fire," I heard Ingram command his subjects and I tore my gaze away in order to save my own hide. I had escaped the arrows again, but the assault had yet to cease. In the midst of the fifth attack, I spotted a lilac tipped arrow within the wooden cluster. It had narrowly missed and I chanced a look at Ingram's lieutenant who was set to fire again.

Before I could move however, strange images came unbidden into my mind, overshadowing the here and now. The practice arrows shifted from those of the flaming steel kind repetitively. My concentration was interrupted, making my movements more jerky than usual. My mouth opened to relay the building pain in my skull, the control I had over myself slowly diminishing. My body reacted on its own, taking me toward the archers. Ingram's face was no longer on his body, but Luxor's took its place. His hood was gone, revealing the black hair slicked back underneath it. A hand was held out toward me, and the most foreign expression was affixed to his face. One akin to…fear.

A word tumbled from his lips, inaudible. A name of sorts. Was it mine…?

Reality stormed into my vision and I reared back just in time to avoid yet another onslaught. Ingram no longer wore the mask of stoicism he came with, but was now ready for the nearly unavoidable battle. I forced my unwilling body back, eyes scanning the meadow. Liquid red smattered the green field, bodies of archers strewn helter-skelter. My mind's eye flashed again, the castle grounds awash in flames and blood curdling cries. Peculiar brown eyes met me in the midst of the chaos, overshadowed by green tresses.

Pain, hot and relentless, coursed throughout my body from my nape outward. The images had faded almost instantly. My mouth was open in the traditional human form of screaming bloody murder, only to be replaced by a not so human high pitched wail. I felt my strength dissipate and I lowered myself best as I could. My eyes darted around, looking for the shaman whom I knew had activated the seal. I found him standing just in front of the crown prince, face set in stone: it was so different than the one I saw mere moments ago. My body felt lighter and I could tell I was back to what they regarded as 'normal'. Darkness gathered at the corners of my eyesight and I made no move to fight it, knowing it would be futile at this point. I met Roderick's somewhat confused gaze and his image clashed with the green haired archer from my visions.

The last thing I saw before I let go of consciousness were Luxor's blue clad legs advancing toward me.


"You are awake, Young One."

I balanced my weight onto my hands, noting that I was again in my cage. I looked up at the person who spoke, belatedly realizing that it was Glen. Glancing around quickly, I saw that I was back inside my Tower. I felt a rush of acute dismay but quickly shook myself out of it.

"How long?" was the first question from my lips. It wasn't the first time Glen had arrived to the tower and found me prone on my cage floor.

"Not long," he said, finally turning his attention from the large window and looking at me. His face seemed… more haggard looking than before. It had been six weeks since I last saw him, really. Six weeks since that disturbing message he gave me.

He had taken a step toward me and stopped short only to cough violently. I wanted to reach forward, and I did, only to meet with the iron bars and the hostility of the seals atop and beneath my prison. I could only watch him double over and wait with him as the fit subsided.

" 'Never you worry for my well being' you said," I told him as he drew nearer. He only smiled wanly at me and squatted to open my cage. No sooner than I was out did I assist him to the only chair in the room and squatted before his knees. I peered up at his face. His wrinkles, drawn on his face by age and experience, seemed to ever so slightly grow in number and delve deeper into his tanned skin.

"If you are not well, why are you here at this hour?" I had noticed that the sun gave way to the moon eons ago. Clearly I had been out of it for longer than he'd less than specified but I decided not to question it. Glen looked down at me with his kind gray eyes, and ran his bony fingers through my hair, stopping only to pull the pony tail forward and examine it.

"I'd thought you finally escaped, Young One," he rasped, throat rough from his earlier coughing fit. He had sidestepped my question neatly with another. But somehow I refrained from bombarding him with my usual demands of a clear answer. Tonight wasn't… didn't feel right for such things. "I've not long before I close these old eyes."

"I'd been to the castle," I answered past the lump in my throat. I still couldn't bear the thought of losing my closest friend so soon, even as he spoke of it as if it were merely describing the weather. "Luxor let me take to the skies for a bit."

Humming softly in acknowledgment, my feeder freed my recently cleaned hair from the tie placed around it. He'd once told me it reminded him of his daughter's hair when she was younger.

"She'd looked so much like her mother," I recalled him saying as his knobby fingers carded through absently. His eyes met mine once more, the tinge of sadness in them vanishing almost completely. "Why did you not escape?"

"You know I can be brought down by a simple recitation, Glen," I told him just as softly, almost afraid that if I raised my voice, something would shatter. "Even so, I was too caught up in the old feeling of flight."

"It had been a time since you'd last flown," Glen mused, his eyes moving from my hair to somewhere across the tower room. "I've heard of your little incident, Young One."

I resisted the urge to sigh. Glen never seemed to tire of throwing me onto different topics without so much as a pause.

"They had attacked me," I tried. I knew it sounded petulant to him if it sounded that way to me. But it was the truth.

"You killed fifty men."

"I had no control over my actions at that moment," I defended quickly. "I cannot even recall the deed."

"There was blood on your hands when you were brought in."

I tilted my head quizzically at my feeder who had yet to look at me. He'd been here?

Glen's fingers stilled in their actions and he glanced down at me with an almost calculating look. He held my gaze for so long that I grew uncomfortable and averted my own eyes.

"You must leave," he told me. "And quickly."

"And I ask again," I said at length. "Where will I go? To whom will I turn? What about the cursed mark?"

"That I cannot tell you," Glen replied. "But you must go."

"I cannot leave you here," I argued. "Not while you're ill. You must go to a doctor."

"What I have cannot be cured, Young One. My time is limited."

His words cut me even deeper than the last time he'd reminded me of his coming passing. So, to get myself away from that horrid feeling of impending loss, I used Glen's own tactic.

"I couldn't see what was in front of me," I said. Glen's fingers resumed their course through and through my hair.

"What did you see?" I looked up at my only friend, seeing the understanding in his eyes.

"I saw arrows. Not the wooden ones used for the army's practice, but ones of steel," I replied. "They were set afire, and aimed for me. There were bodies. Blood was everywhere and the screaming…"

By then my face was buried into the cloth of his robes. I was deceitfully still, the images rolling before my mind's eye as if the events happened mere seconds ago. "I saw him: Luxor. But it wasn't him."

"How so?" Glen coaxed gently after he'd felt I had paused long enough.

"There was nothing of the Luxor I know. This man," I thought back to the horrified expression I'd seen, trying to find the right words to describe it. "He seemed frightened. He was looking at me with that wild look in his eye and he called out. But I couldn't tell what he'd said."

Glen hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe it's a message, Young One."

It could have been. But there was something about it that gave me that nostalgic feeling. That feeling from before, when I'd seen the painting in the hall.

There was a long, pregnant silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Glen tied my hair back neatly and nudged me lightly. I moved away, helping him stand. He ushered me into my cage and placed a covered platter in behind me. Just as he pushed the iron bars to, he leant heavily onto it and was overcome once more by a fit of coughing.

I placed my own hand over his in a futile attempt to comfort him as he rode out the obviously painful ordeal. "Please, Glen. Even if it cannot be cured, the least you can do is get some sort of medication for it."

He met my gaze with a pained one of his own. But it vanished soon enough to be replaced by another one of those aged smiles of his. He left without another word save for a polite good night.


I awoke again with a start, but remained still. I was laying on my side, eyes opening to mere slits so that I could see who had decided to pay me a visit so early in the morning. My initial tension did not go unnoticed, apparently.

"You've done well, Dragonfly." I opened my eye and sat up, moving as far away from the front bars as possible. General Takk had assumed his usual position across the room beneath the large window. His green eyes met mine, a smirk gracing his lips.

Looking to either side of me, I realized that there were no guards posted. It was just me and that sly general. Takk pushed himself off the wall and came toward me, squatting before the iron bars.

"Such promise," he seemed to murmur to himself. "Locked in a cage like some animal."

What was he on about? He seemed to read the question in my eyes for his smirk seemed to widen.

"Don't you want to be free of this prison once and for all?" I did not answer. "I know very well that you can talk, Dragonfly. I also know that the only thing standing in your way of total freedom in that stupid seal at the back of your neck."

I eyed him wearily.

"What is it that you want?" I finally asked, words curt.

"Ah, I knew you were a smart one."

I was about to ask more when the steel doors to the tower pushed inward to admit the crown prince's lieutenant. Roderick looked at me for a moment before fixing his gaze on the knight in front of me.

"He's an amazing creature, isn't he?"

Takk tore his gaze from mine and looked to the lad questioningly.

"His Highness requested your presence in the Common Room, General," the archer folded his arms, his quiver resting comfortably at his hip. "And here I find you having tea time with the Dragonfly."

I looked to the general and saw the subtle tensing of his jaw. He rose regardless, and strolled toward the doors, but not before glancing at me over his shoulder. Without a word to Ingram's Second in Command, he left. Roderick watched him leave and made to follow, but stopped short. Turning around he grinned brightly at me before leaving without a word.

My eyes narrowed at the closed doors. The boy was a puzzle that I never had any intention to solve. But it kept throwing itself at my feet. But I chose to ignore it once again, my thoughts returning to Takk's unfinished proposition. As enticing as the idea of being free sounded, it just was not that easy. He admitted that he wanted something from me in return, and sure as day follows night, it wasn't good.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.09.2010

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